Something To Sleep To
by SirusPolaris
Summary: R&R [One-Shot/Songfic] Spike reflects on when the world began to fall apart...


*A/N:* I have this undeniable dislike for the Spike X Julia pairing, but this little nugget of thought told me that this distain was undeserved-- since the couple is so star-crossed it's almost sickening.  
  
*DISCLAIMER:* I don't own Cowboy Bebop or "Something To Sleep To" by Michelle Branch.  
  
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*~*~She's his yellow brick road,   
  
Leading him on and letting him go   
  
As far as she let's him go.   
  
Going down   
  
To nowhere. ~*~*  
  
Cold. Despite the torrents of morning sunlight filtering into the room, the first thing he felt was the chilled air biting the bare skin that his sheets had left exposed. He reached out absently, wanting her blessed warmth to wash over him as he held her in his arms, to ward off the offending draftiness. But his arms returned to him, empty. She had left without waking him. She was already gone.  
  
With a sigh, he drowsily opened his eyes, vacantly watching the blades of the ceiling fan slice lazily through the shafts of daylight as they shone over his bed.  
  
He knew for certain of the giddy, contented feelings that played about inside. There was no mistaking them. The two of them together, the feel of her skin beneath his fingers, the shape she took when she was wrapped up in his arms; he had never dreamed anything would feel so perfect.   
  
But something else tugged insistently at his heavenly joy, keeping it from going too high. His eyes followed the fan blades as they continued to spin in a steady arc, turning this thought over and over in his mind as each blade passed.  
  
What they had done was wrong. She was not his to have.   
  
Fuck, life was complicated. It was like the universe was mocking him.  
  
*~*~She puts on her makeup   
  
The same way she did yesterday   
  
Hoping everything's the same   
  
But everything has changed. ~*~*  
  
His heart ached painfully, and the sensation caught him by surprise. He couldn't remember feeling anything with his heart before her. Even pain. Physical wounds, he'd had plenty, but wounds of the heart? Never.   
  
Round and round, above him his reverie swirled hypnotically, beating with the same hurting rhythm that pulsed in his veins. He had put her in danger. By thinking of her, he had put her at risk. By looking at her, he had threatened her life. By touching her, he had virtually killed her. And by loving her. . .   
  
It was simple. He couldn't have her. He shouldn't have her.   
  
She was a pretty thing high up on a shelf but was too far up for outstretched hands to touch. She was nightshade, beautiful but potent with venom.   
  
All he wanted was to wrap her up close to him and hold her safe and secure, to feel her arms around his neck and her heart under his fingertips. But even those simple, yet beautiful things were austerely forbidden. What they had done had shattered the carefully structured scheme of life they each had set their internal rhythms to. It was wrong.  
  
And she knew.  
  
He turned his head to the side to stare at the spot where she should have been, her warmth radiating off her in waves as she curled against him, golden waves splayed across his bare chest. But there was only the nip of icy air and an unfilled space where she herself should have lain. He wanted to scream, call her name out into the streets and beg her to return, he couldn't stand the desolateness she left in her wake.   
  
But he knew she was right in leaving. Last night shouldn't have happened. No one could ever know.   
  
*~*~In my mind   
  
Everything we did was right.~*~*  
  
What was she doing now? He turned his gaze upward again, placing his hands behind his head. Round and round, right back to the bed she had strayed from. Was she holding onto Vicious, giving him her hallowed warmth and warding off the demons that pursued his soul? Or were her thoughts dwelling here?  
  
He honestly didn't know. Hell, he wasn't sure if he wanted to.  
  
She was mysterious, her shrouded thoughts carefully hidden, even from him. That's what he loved about her. He wanted to spend a lifetime figuring out why she hated pickles, why she squeaked when he surprised her, why she had an infatuation with roses.   
  
But he couldn't.  
  
*~*~Open your eyes; I'll still be by your side   
  
How could I ever have been so blind?   
  
You give me something to sleep to   
  
At night.~*~*  
  
His whole body felt heavy. And cold. What would they do now? It was too late to take it back-- not like he would have if he could. Holding her felt so indubitably right, and he couldn't let himself ignore that. His thoughts completed a full circle. Without a doubt. . .  
  
He loved her.  
  
Strange, he had never really 'loved' anything before. Syndicate men weren't allowed to make such attachments, because they often became distractions. Distracted men often wound up dead.  
  
*~*~He looks up to the sound,   
  
So scared that she's leaving.   
  
He wishes she were still   
  
Asleep next to him   
  
Hoping she will change. . .~*~*  
  
She had never said she loved him, but Spike was no fool. For a moment he rejoiced in the memory; her eyes shone a gleaming sterling-blue, her face twisted in a mixture of elation and despair.   
  
//"Spike, please, just hold me. I need you so much."//  
  
Her words echoed in the caverns of his mind, whispering in a pained voice. Over and over. Round and round. The world was moving at erratic speeds, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality. How long could he stay spinning before everything stopped?  
  
*~*~In my mind   
  
Everything we did was right.~*~*  
  
But he was still confused. If she loved him, why wasn't she here?   
  
The answer, like the question, was disgustingly simple: Vicious.  
  
Spike was almost positive she didn't love his partner. She had never been so warm to Vicious, nor did he ever see her smile in his presence. It was a shame, really-- she had the most beautiful, damn sexy smile.  
  
Last night he had hinted at seeing her again, but, being the classy lady she was, she refused. She didn't want to become the whore everyone suspected her to be, and she was too smart to leave Vicious.   
  
  
  
But he wanted so desperately to be with her, out in the world without rivalries and secrets to devour them alive.  
  
*~*~Open your eyes; I'll still be by your side.   
  
How could I ever have been so blind?   
  
You give me something to sleep to   
  
At night.~*~*  
  
He couldn't just stop loving her; it would be like trying to stop breathing. No, there had to be another way. They couldn't hide forever, the syndicate had eyes everywhere, and sooner or later someone would find out.   
  
Then what would they do? Would she be willing to give up this life for the dream of another?  
  
Somehow, he doubted it.  
  
But she made him feel alive, she made every movement and every word so incredibly heavenly-- he wanted more. And there was no doubt in his mind that he'd go to the hell and back to get it.  
  
*~*~You give me something to sleep to   
  
And all I know is   
  
You give me something to dream to when I'm   
  
All alone and blue.   
  
Don't leave me now,   
  
Don't leave me now.~*~*  
  
They had inadvertently started the end of the world, and they would bring down their broken façade with it. There was no place to hide that prying eyes would not see. He was wandering in circles, searching for an answer to a question he couldn't bring himself to ask.   
  
He sat up, stretching his cramped muscles and reaching for his pants without a word. The morning was a somber one, quiet and reserved. It held its breath as if it could stop time from pushing it forward, halting the day before it became riddled with horrible things.   
  
He smiled cynically. Maybe it already was.  
  
*~*~In my mind   
  
Everything we did was right.   
  
Open your eyes; I'll still be by your side.   
  
How could I ever have been so blind?   
  
You give me something to sleep to   
  
You give me something to sleep to. . .~*~*  
  
With a sad sigh, he reached out a hand to touch the place beside him on the mattress where her outline was defined in the rumpled sheets. It was still warm.  
  
Damn.  
  
He couldn't help but feel that part of him had left with her.  
  
*~*~You give me something to sleep to   
  
At night.~*~*  
  
He stood and headed towards the door. His depression seemed to have absorbed into the very air, making it thick and un-breathable. He had to leave. He had to find her. They would find a way. There was no way he would let her go. Shrugging on a wrinkled shirt, he stood in the doorframe, absently allowing his surveying gaze to drift upwards once more to study the ceiling fan.  
  
It had stopped spinning. 


End file.
